


The Chaser and the Commentator

by Desaumarez



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Rhett & Link
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Commentator - Freeform, Good Mythical Morning - Freeform, Hogwarts, M/M, Magic, Quidditch, Quidditch Injuries, quidditch pitch
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-08
Updated: 2016-11-03
Packaged: 2018-08-20 04:03:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8235451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Desaumarez/pseuds/Desaumarez
Summary: This was not the first time Rhett had been knocked from his broomstick during a Quidditch match. But in all his years of commentating his best friend’s games, Link could not remember a moment where Rhett hadn’t immediately gotten back up.





	1. The Game

**Author's Note:**

> Harry Potter Hogwarts AU, where Rhett’s Ravenclaw and Link’s a Slytherin. Sixth year (Rhett is 17, Link is 16). This is my first written fanfiction in a long time and my first Rhink fic, so feedback is welcome!

“Gooooood magical morning, witches and wizards! It’s a wonderful day to play some Quidditch!”

One particularly gorgeous morning in early May, sunlight warmed the Quidditch pitch and the air smelled of sweet, spring grass. From where he stood in the stadium’s top box, Link Neal watched as hundreds of Hogwarts students took their seats in the stands, speculating eagerly about the game ahead. It was the second to last match of the season and the Slytherin sixth year would be commentating as usual, armed with an enchanted purple megaphone and a bowl of cereal.

Link raised the megaphone to his lips, speaking around a mouthful of the breakfast he hadn’t had enough time to finish up at the castle. “Today folks, we have Ravenclaw goin’ head to head with Hufflepuff! I’ll try to keep my commentary impartial, but I ain’t gonna make any promises – I’m still recovering from Slytherin’s _ridiculous_ loss against Hufflepuff last month. I think the Puffs rigged the whole thing, but no one believes me.”

Going on his fourth season of commentating Hogwarts Quidditch matches, Link was no stranger to speaking in front of hundreds of people. He used to spend the evening before a match sprawled in the Slytherin common room, little brow furrowed in concentration, meticulously planning out his jokes and how he would react to certain scenarios. Over the years, however, Link learned to rely on his spontaneity. If the roars of laughter from the crowd were any indication, he had a natural knack for comedy; at least the spectators seemed to appreciate his nonsensical and often outrageous comments.

Well, _most_ of the spectators.

“I don’t want to hear any… _Loose_ commentary today, Mr Neal,” said a voice behind him. He turned to see Professor McGonagall seated to the left of his commentator’s podium, regarding him with a stern gaze. “We’re not having a repeat of the last match, when I had to insist upon a Silencing charm to stop you swearing at the Hufflepuff team.”

“They deliberately fouled our keeper and we didn’t even get a penalty!” Link insisted, but when McGonagall’s raised her eyebrows at him, he added hastily, “Right right, my mistake. I’ll try my absolute best, professor.”

“Good,” she replied, and Link grinned and returned to his cereal. Even though he wasn’t one for taking part in competition, Link was fiercely loyal when it came to supporting his Quidditch teams.

Down below on the pitch, Madam Hooch turned towards the top box and gave two sharp blasts on her whistle, indicating that the teams were ready to play. As the chatter in the stands died down to an excited murmur, Link took one last spoonful of cereal and stashed the bowl under the podium. “Shall we start, Professor McGonagall?”

The professor quickly scanned the stadium and gave a curt nod. “The four houses are all here. You may begin to introduce the teams, Mr Neal.”

“Alright everyone, it’s time to get this magical showdown underway,” Link called, the purple megaphone causing his voice to reverberate around the stadium. “Please welcome to the pitch the amazing Hufflepuff team! Presenting Macavoy, Cadwallader, Rickett, O’Flaherty, Fleet, Summerby, aaaand their captain, Zacharias Smith!”

The Hufflepuff team wearing sunshine robes walked onto the pitch to whoops and whistles; a good third of the supporters were wearing yellow scarves or rosettes, their badger mascot flying high on several large banners. Since their trouncing of both Gryffindor and Slytherin earlier in the year, the Hufflepuffs were a favourite to win the Quidditch cup.

“And now, introducing the equally awesome opposing team, Ravenclaw! We have Chambers, Bradley, Inglebee, Samuels, Page, Chang…”

It was a given that Link would be hoping for a Ravenclaw victory, to serve Hufflepuff right for beating Slytherin in the previous match. If anyone asked, this would of course be what he would tell them, coupled with a snarky comment about the Puffs getting lucky for the first and last time ever. However, his _real_ reason for supporting the eagles was not something he was as willing to share.

“… Aaaand last but not least, the Ravenclaw captain, chaser _Rhett McLaughlin_!”

The Ravenclaw crowd erupted into cheers as his best friend of 10 years strode into the stadium, wearing royal blue robes and a determined smile. The sleek bronze accents on his Nimbus 2000 shimmered in the light, and his teammates followed him to the centre of the pitch where Madam Hooch waited to begin the game.

A proud grin split Link’s face at the sight. He hadn’t ever missed a single one of Rhett’s matches, but he still felt a tingly rush of affection every time Rhett stepped onto the pitch. Not about to let this chance slip by, he raised the megaphone to his lips. “If you can believe it guys, McLaughlin has grown _even taller_ since the last match. Who’s been sending Stretching charms at him over breakfast?”

Even from such a distance away, Link could see Rhett turn to raise his eyebrows at him in amusement. Link smirked cheekily and winked back, a warm feeling enveloping his chest. He couldn’t help but notice the morning sun catching the gold in Rhett’s cropped hair.

Rhett and the Hufflepuff captain stepped forwards to shake hands, and Link took the moment to wrap up the remaining pre-game announcements. “Remember that this is our second to last match of the season, folks! The winner today goes on to face Gryffindor in the final next month, and the losers get nothing but a sore ego and a trip to the hospital wing. Much like what happened to me last week when Ben Thomas snuck Pepper Imps candy into my cereal. I’m telling you, my bathroom trips are still much more fiery than necessary.”

At the shout of, “Mount your brooms!” from Madam Hooch, the two teams swung their legs over their broomsticks. Rhett towered over his teammates; Link knew he was deep in concentration, running through plays in his head and mapping out his ideal game. When a shrill whistle sounded and the four Quidditch balls shot skyward, Rhett was the first player off the ground.

“Aaand they’re off!” Link yelled. “Ravenclaw is in possession, Bradley streaking towards the goalposts, he passes to – no, Quaffle intercepted by Smith! Smith of Hufflepuff is wheeling around, he passes to Cadwaddler – no, that’s not it, _Cadwallader_ , who comes up with these names anyway – ouch! That’s a Bludger to the gut, Hufflepuff drops the Quaffle, it’s caught by – McLaughlin of Ravenclaw!”

As one of the best chasers Ravenclaw had seen in several years, Rhett was team captain for a reason. Even before starting at Hogwarts, Link had been subject to Rhett’s enthusiastic love for Quidditch; many a summer afternoon had been spent wobbling around on their parents’ broomsticks, throwing an old Quaffle back and forth. The years of practice paid off, however, as Rhett was now challenging the Hogwarts record of most goals scored by a single chaser.  

“McLaughlin is tearing up the pitch, he swerves Smith – _woah_ , just dodges a Bludger aimed by Rickett – and he’s approaching Fleet and the goalposts! Don’t hang about, McLaughlin, throw the dang ball!”

Just inside the scoring area, Rhett reared back his arm and threw the Quaffle with all his strength. Fleet made an admirable lunge, but the Quaffle rocketed past his fingertips and through the centre goal hoop.

“And he scoooores! Ravenclaw takes an early lead with the first goal of the game,” Link called, shouting above the explosion of applause from the blue and bronze supporters. Link pressed the golden lever beside him that increased the team scores; with a familiar _whirr_ and _click_ , the display on the front of the podium read, ‘RAVENCLAW: 10, HUFFLEPUFF: 0’.

 Rhett quickly scored again, working closely with his team to avoid treacherous Bludgers and keep the Quaffle out of reach of the Hufflepuff players. Link only just managed to avoid joining in with the cheers, and instead leaned forwards on the podium to resume commentary.

“Aaaand it’s Hufflepuff in possession, Macavoy of Hufflepuff with the Quaffle, heading straight for the Ravenclaw goalposts, looking good, Heidi! Argh, no – Quaffle intercepted by Burrow, Burrow of Ravenclaw tearing up the pitch – ouch! Devious Bludger work there by Rickett, Burrow drops the Quaffle, it’s caught by – Smith, Hufflepuff back in possession – nice swerve around Chambers, didn’t know you had it in you Smith – AND you dodged a Bludger, Smith you’re really outdoing yourself today – HE SCORES! WHAT? 20-10, Hufflepuff’s clawing back some ground!”

Hufflepuff’s raucous cheers filled the air, with howls and groans from the Ravenclaws.

“I don’t know where Smith got all that energy from all of a sudden,” Link rambled into the megaphone as the game resumed. “That might be the most skill I’ve seen him display since I’ve known him. I’ve only met him once, and… Well, I’m sure his mother has nice things to say about him.”

“Mr Neal, you are supposed to be providing _unbiased commentary –”_          

“If you wanted fair commentary, professor McGonagall, you should have hired a Hufflepuff!” Link called, shifting a little farther away from her in case she tried to wrangle the megaphone from him. “Look, Ravenclaw has the Quaffle! Chaser Chambers is soaring towards the Hufflepuff keeper…”

Before long, the score sat at 60-20 to Ravenclaw, with four of those goals scored by Rhett. “My _goodness_ , someone get that boy a longer set of robes,” Link teased as Rhett streaked around the stadium after his fourth goal, pumping his fist to tumultuous applause from the crowd. “His pasty white ankles are blinding me from here!”

(Link would rather jump off a cliff than admit it, but throwing playful jokes at Rhett for all of Hogwarts to hear was perhaps his favourite aspect of commentating.)

After Rhett’s victory lap, the game accelerated to such a pace that it was almost difficult for Link to keep up. Twice he got distracted from the action by Rhett speeding past the commentator’s box – he told himself it was because the speed at which he was flying drew his attention, as it would anyone. It certainly wasn’t because Link had caught sight of the look of fierce determination on Rhett’s face, or the way the wind whipped his Quidditch robes behind him, pulling the fabric taut against his chest.

“Hufflepuff is back in possession, Macavoy is speeding along, she dodges _two_ Bludgers, holy wow, and - oh my gosh, look at Cho Chang! Has she seen the snitch?”

The crowd gasped as their attention was drawn to the Ravenclaw seeker, who had suddenly launched into a steep dive, shooting for a golden glimmer fluttering near the grass.

“Summerby has only just noticed Chang’s dive, he’s racing to catch up!” Link’s voice was growing strained already from all his excited yelling into the megaphone. “Cho’s levelling out now, the snitch is trying its best to get away – will they make it? The game could be over in a matter of seconds, folks!”

Summerby and Cho Chang were nearly shoulder to shoulder, lying flat against their brooms after the golden snitch. They weaved through the Ravenclaw chasers, dodged Madam Hooch, and turned sharply as their target soared ever higher. But as the crowd urged their players on and the seekers sped skyward, the blinding sunlight allowed the snitch to flit away and escape the seekers’ sights.

“Aaaand it appears the seekers lost the snitch,” Link sighed, and students in the stands moaned in disappointment. “Play now will resume for the other players, as Ravenclaw’s McLaughlin is in possession once again!”

As he paused for breath, Link narrowed his eyes at the pitch.  Half of both teams had been hanging, motionless in the air, watching the showdown between the two seekers, and were only just returning to the game. At least three of the four beaters stopped to observe, as well as the Ravenclaw keeper and two Hufflepuff chasers. But if the beaters hadn’t been keeping an eye on the Bludgers that entire time…

Out of the corner of his eye streaked a tiny blur of black.

“WATCH OUT MCLAUGHLIN, that’s a bludger!”

WHAM.

Link’s warning came too late. The rogue Bludger smashed into the small of Rhett’s back before he could react, tossing him and the Quaffle forwards off his broom. There was a yell from the crowd below as Rhett pinwheeled through the air, slamming to the ground with an ugly thud.

“Ouch, that’s _got_ to hurt! A nasty hit to the Ravenclaw captain because the beaters weren’t doing their dang job - good gosh guys, that must have been nearly 20 feet.” Link peered over the edge of the podium to see if Rhett was okay, a worrisome knot in his stomach – but a sudden roar of applause and a sharp elbow to his ribs from McGonagall indicated he had missed a goal. In such an important game, the crowd did not have time to dwell on a simple hit by a Bludger. Firmly ignoring the shiver of fear that trickled down his spine, Link tore his attention from Rhett. “Er - shake it off McLaughlin, your team’s being robbed here! That’s now just 60-40 to Ravenclaw, only two more goals for Hufflepuff to tie it up!”

The stadium thrummed with intensity as Hufflepuff gained possession of the Quaffle once more. However, not 20 seconds passed before Zacharias Smith went slamming into Macavoy accidentally-on-purpose and Madam Hooch zoomed between them.

“Foul!” She shrieked as Macavoy spiralled away, holding her head. “Penalty to Ravenclaw!”

Only when Madam Hooch blew her whistle and Bradley flew forwards to take the shot did Link allow himself to scan the pitch for his best friend. A foreboding feeling twisted his insides; he should have been up and flying by now, but there were only six Ravenclaw players in the air -

It was then that Link’s gaze found Rhett and saw he hadn’t moved from where he had crashed into the grass.


	2. The Fall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long to upload! I always underestimate how busy university is around midterm season. This is a short chapter, but hopefully it's alright.

This was not the first time Rhett had fallen during a match. He had practically been blown off his broom when a hurricane hit in his first year as chaser, and once had a nasty collision with a Hufflepuff keeper when he misjudged a dive he took to catch the Quaffle. But in all his years of watching his best friend play, Link could not remember a moment where Rhett hadn’t immediately gotten back up.                

Though he couldn’t see Rhett’s face from his podium, the blond lay lifeless, his broomstick several feet from him. His leg stuck out at a grotesque angle, bent in a way that looked horribly, terribly wrong. Link had never seen Rhett look so small.

“McLaughlin?” Link asked with hesitation, his commentator’s bravado faltering. “Rhett? You okay, buddy?”

When Rhett didn’t even stir in response, a sick sensation he had never felt before seized him by the heart.

The stadium around him gasped as his words brought their attention to the fallen chaser. Madam Hooch’s tinny whistle sounded again as a professor ran onto the pitch, pulling their wand from their sleeve.

“ _Rhett_?” Link repeated into the megaphone, frantic urgency creeping into his voice. The dreadful feeling grew stronger – it was chilling and unknown and full of static that filled his chest. He couldn’t stop staring at his best friend’s twisted leg.

The Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff teams had landed and gathered in worrisome knots on the grass, pale faced and whispering uneasily. Cho Chang was starting to cry, and even Madam Hooch stood with her hand pressed to her mouth. The professor bending over Rhett straightened up and raised their wand high – sparks snapped in the air above, bathing Rhett in a brief crimson glow.

“Merlin’s beard,” McGonagall gasped, peering desperately over the edge of the box for a better look. “They sent up red sparks.”

Link whipped around to face her. “What does that – professor, _what does that mean?”_

The old professor’s face tightened. “It means Mr McLaughlin needs to be transported to the hospital wing immediately.”

“Oh my gosh –”

A group of trainee Healers dressed in lime green robes sprinted onto the grass, a stretcher speeding along beside them in midair. Link’s hands were starting to shake; he grabbed onto the podium with his free hand to be sure he would not crumble. Rhett was not moving. Rhett was not moving. Rhett was lying broken hundreds of feet from him and he had never stayed down after a fall before but still he was not moving.

“Oh God - Rhett? _Rhett!_ C’mon man, get up, please –”

Professor McGonagall tried to place a reassuring hand on his shoulder, but Link shook her off roughly.

“ _No,_ professor, his leg, look at his leg – somebody cancel the match – _Rhett!”_

Link was dimly aware of faces in the stadium turning to stare at the commentator’s box. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a voice reminded him that he was currently broadcasting his distress to over six hundred people, that he had never before lost composure in all his years of commentating. But so much of the world was falling away from him that the confused mutterings from either side might as well have been faint whispers.  

“Mr Neal, they know what they’re doing,” Professor McGonagall hissed urgently, “He’s going to be all right –”

\- but Link couldn’t take his eyes off Rhett’s crumpled form on the pitch below. The knuckles on his hand that gripped the edge of the box were turning white and the foreign emotion pulled at his chest, so tight he could barely breathe from the weight of it.

Link vaguely registered the megaphone slipping from his grasp; before he knew what he was doing, he found himself bolting from the box, clattering down the wooden staircase that led to the pitch as fast as he dared. There was an odd ringing in his ears; Professor McGonagall’s shout of, “ _Mr Neal!_ ” seemed to come from very far away. Rhett, he had to get to Rhett. If he had just warned him about the Bludger sooner -

Link hit the grass at a run. The stands buzzed around him, spectators standing up to get a better look at what was happening below. Nothing could keep Rhett from him now – yet why were his cheeks wet? Why was his heart about to burst from his ribcage? Why did it seem like he was on the verge of feeling nothing at all?

A Healer saw Link hurtling towards them and held up a hand in firm warning, but he paid her no heed, shoving his way through the huddle and skidding to a halt at his blood brother’s side.

“Rhett –”

His best friend had been magicked onto the floating stretcher. Rhett’s head was tilted just enough to the side that Link could see his face, ashen and pale. His splintered leg lay twisted below the knee and one of his arms dangled uselessly from the stretcher. His eyes were closed.

Link grabbed Rhett’s hand and squeezed it hard, but the cropped blond head didn’t move. Gold-green eyes didn’t open. Gentle mouth didn’t laugh at him for making a scene in front of the whole of Hogwarts. He thought he could sense a faint pulse flickering under his fingers, but he was shaking so much he couldn’t be sure of anything at all.

The Healer was commanding him to stand back, but Link couldn’t remember how to move his feet. The heavy feeling in his chest was stronger than ever and a numbness stole through him, cold and shivering. A familiar voice echoed from somewhere, sounding hysterical in its fright; “Rhett, wake up brother, _c’mon,_ you’re my best friend, Rhett, oh my gosh, _please,_ Rhett –”

There had to be too much blood. A dark, wet stain spread over Rhett’s broken leg even as Link watched, even as a Healer spun a bandage around it with her wand. It smelled like rust. The sight of it hit him like a Bludger, causing him to sway dangerously on the spot, a dizziness assaulting his vision and snatching his breath from him.

“Rhett,” he whispered, the only word that seemed to make sense to him anymore - and the world tipped beneath his feet. The stands around him seemed to roar.

The last thing Link remembered before the ground rushed up to meet him was the feeling of Rhett’s limp hand slipping from his own.


End file.
